


Still

by ro_binary



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Crossdressing, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, One-Shot, Pining, bucky is a sap, steve wears a dress
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-20
Updated: 2019-06-20
Packaged: 2020-05-15 13:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19296577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ro_binary/pseuds/ro_binary
Summary: Bucky was supposed to be out for another hour at least yet, so his return would be a surprise. He was never back this early, not after a date. Perhaps he and Steve could stay up and play cards for what was left of the night. He entered their shared little home expecting to find the other boy sketching something while sprawled out on the worn couch in their sparse living room, but he couldn’t see anyone.“Stevie?” he called out. A muffled cry and the sounds of things crashing to the floor came from the direction of the small bedroom that he and Steve shared, each with their own small bed pushed to opposite sides of the room. “Steve!”





	Still

The night was still young, but Bucky was going home.

Bucky’s date for that night was named Dorothy, and she was a real dish with fiery red hair and shining green eyes. She was witty to boot, and for every cheesy one-liner he could come-up with, she would shoot it down with one of her own. Pretty, funny, and great at dancing too—she was truly a dream and not at all shy about asking for a kiss right out there on the dance floor.

And Bucky had agreed to the kiss. He’d led her by the arm into the shadows and then leaned down to close the space between them. Her lips were soft but hungry, and they tasted like cherries. Dorothy, it turned out, was a fantastic kisser. 

And then Bucky called an end to their night of fun, making up some lame excuse for why he had to go home so abruptly. Dorothy had been nice about the whole thing, but he felt bad for stringing her along. His relationships were becoming briefer and briefer, until all his most recent dames had gotten only a night or two with him at most. It was easy to lie to himself, to say that he was too tired from work or that he just wasn’t feeling the spark, but lately it was becoming clearer and clearer—every dance, every kiss, every moment spent with one of those sweet girls was spent thinking about Steve Rogers, his lifelong best friend.

It had once filled him with shame to admit it, to acknowledge the sin of his thoughts, but he couldn’t find any reason why loving Steve was any different than loving, say, Dorothy, and he wasn’t religious anyway. No, Bucky’s biggest problem was that Steve didn’t even know about Bucky’s growing feelings toward him. And he never could know, not unless Bucky was willing to jeopardize their lifelong friendship.

Bucky was supposed to be out for another hour at least yet, so his return would be a surprise. He was never back this early, not after a date. Perhaps he and Steve could stay up and play cards for what was left of the night. He entered their shared little home expecting to find the other boy sketching something while sprawled out on the worn couch in their sparse living room, but he couldn’t see anyone.

“Stevie?” he called out. A muffled cry and the sounds of things crashing to the floor came from the direction of the small bedroom that he and Steve shared, each with their own small bed pushed to opposite sides of the room. “Steve!”

He ran the few steps it took to get to their room, gasping when he saw what a mess the room was. It seemed that a box of clothing had been upended... women’s clothing. Good god, had /Steve/ brought a dame home with him?

Then he spotted Steve laying in the middle of it all. He had pushed himself up off the ground where he‘d apparently fallen and was looking up at Bucky with terror in his eyes. “Stevie, what’s—“ Bucky began to say, leaning down to help pick his best friend off the cold cement floor, but he paused when he noticed.

“Bucky, I- I can explain,” Steve said, tugging down the hem of the skirt pooling around his legs. His chin trembled as he spoke, his paleness accentuated by the red lipstick smeared across his quivering lips.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice was rough, and he inwardly cursed when he saw Steve flinch.

“I’m sorry, Buck, I’ll take it off, okay? I’ll give it all away, and we can just pretend it never happened,” Steve started blabbering. “Please. Please.”

“You don’t have to take it off,” Bucky said slowly, mind racing at a mile a minute to try to figure out what was going on. Steve sniffed quietly, and swiped at his eye so quickly that Bucky might have thought he’d imagined it if he hadn’t known how much Steve hated to be seen crying. “What- what is all this?”

“It’s nothing,” Steve said, his voice shaky and hardly audible. He looked so small and breakable surrounded by the swaths of blue fabric. It broke Bucky’s heart to see him like this, not at all like the boy who wouldn’t back down from an alleyway fight with a guy three times his size. And yet, exactly like him. “Please, just... Don’t look at me.”

“Hey, it’s okay. You can talk to me,” Bucky said lamely. The words felt corny coming out of his mouth, but he meant each of them. He posed his next question cautiously, unsure of the right way to ask. “Are- are you a dame now or something?”

“No, Buck,” Steve said, pale arms hugging himself. He wouldn’t meet Bucky’s gaze. “I’m not a dame.”

“Well then you’re still my best guy, aren’t you?” When Steve didn’t reply, Bucky crouched down beside him. Steve flinched away from him, cowering into the wall. “Can I ask what this is all about?”

“It’s about nothing,” Steve said quickly, and it took all of Bucky’s effort not to sigh. Sighing would just make Steve retreat even further, but goddamn could this man be stubborn.

“Stevie—“ Bucky paused, running a hand through his hair. “You know you never to be afraid of me. I’d never hurt you or judge you for nothing.”

A few moments of heavy silence passed. Then, “I know.”

“Well, I’m sure you didn’t get all dolled up just for me,” he started up again. ”And I don’t see anyone else around. So is this just a, uh, personal thing?”

There was a tense beat of silence before Steve finally began to open up to him.

“Yes, Buck. This is just for me.” Steve sighed, then slowly lifted his head up from his arms. His eyes were red and bloodshot, and Bucky was close enough to see the way tears had clumped his eyelashes together. “And I’m sorry if you’re disgusted, I truly am, Buck. I wish I could be different, but I also really don’t. I tried to hide it from you, but I can’t stop being me even if you hate me for it.”

“I could never hate you,” Bucky said without thinking. It was a simple fact, after all, in the way that the sky is blue and the sun is bright and fire is hot. “And I ain’t even a little bit bothered. I just... I’m not sure I understand why you’d wanna,” Bucky trailed off and made a vague gesture with his hands.

“I like how it feels,” Steve said softly and gave a small shrug. “This is just me, Buck. I don’t think I can explain it.”

“That’s okay.” Bucky stared at the array of clothes spread across the floor. It was mostly dresses, though he spotted some blouses and skirts and even a couple pairs of heels. Most of the clothing looked fairly worn and old though. “If you want, I can take you shopping sometime. I can’t afford much, but I’m sure we can find you something real pretty.”

“I don’t need your pity or your help,” Steve said, glaring at him a little. “I’ve done just fine on my own so far.”

“Of course you’re just fine on your own, Steve.” Bucky let out a soft laugh. “Goodness knows you always have been. But you don’t have to do everything on your own just because you can.

“I want to be here for you,” Bucky continued. “I want your problems to be my problems, and the other way around too. If this is a part of you, then it’s a part of me too.”

“You can’t just go around saying stuff like that,” Steve replied, not meeting Bucky’s gaze. “People will get the wrong idea.”

Bucky frowned in confusion. “There’s no one here but us.” 

“Then I’ll get the wrong idea,” Steve said, tightening his arms around himself. His voice cracked as he added, “You’re not like me, so don’t give me false hope.”

“False hope?” Bucky echoed, feeling stupid for not understanding. “Stevie, I meant every word I said. I support you completely.”

“I know you do,” Steve said after a pause, then let out a sigh. “But you were never even supposed to know about this. You were supposed to be gone all night. Why’d you get home so early anyway?”

Bucky hesitated. He could lie. He could tell Steve that Dorothy had turned out to be a cold fish or that she had thought him a sorry sod after he kept stepping on her toes. But Bucky was sick of the lies and the excuses, sick of dancing around the truth.

“I was kissing her,” Bucky took a deep breath, then continued, “and yet the only person I wanted to be kissing was this guy waiting for me at home.”

Steve froze. Since Bucky had gotten home, Steve had been trembling and letting out rapid, shaky breaths, yet now he was perfectly silent and still. His clear blue eyes were wide as saucers, and Bucky could see the full moon suspended outside their bedroom window reflected in the boy’s pupils.

When Steve didn’t respond, Bucky tried to backtrack, to do anything that could possibly save their friendship which Bucky had just ruined. “Stevie, I-“

“You really mean that?” Steve interrupted him. His voice was hardly a whisper, but it was enough.

“Absolutely.” Bucky swallowed—no going back now. “I— I think I’m in love with you.”

“You think?” Steve scoffed, and Bucky felt his heart stop beating. “I’ve known I loved you for the past eight years, what’s with this ‘I think’ nonsense?”

And Bucky felt every single emotion at once, felt his heart sing and his lungs scream. “Honest?” was the only reply he was able to choke out.

“On God.” This was impossible. Steve reciprocating his feelings? No, it couldn’t be real. But it was. He held out his hand, and Steve took it. The room felt charged with energy when they were standing in front of each other, staring the other straight in the eye. Bucky watched as Steve’s gaze fall to his lips. Then Steve licked his own lips. 

“Dance with me,” Bucky blurted suddenly. Steve’s eyes flicked back up to his, and he leaned back a little in surprise.

“What?”

“Dance with me,” Bucky repeated, scratching the back of his neck absentmindedly. “What, is a fella not allowed to want a dance with his best guy?”

Steve laughed softly, and Bucky wondered if the other boy could tell how nervous he was. He just hoped his slight shaking wasn’t too noticeable. “Yeah, alright,” he replied, and held out his hand for Bucky to take, then led him to their living room.

Bucky fiddling with the knobs on their wireless radio until a slow, sweet song started to drift through the room. Cautiously, Bucky put his hands on the hips of Steve, who stiffened but did not back away. He kept his touch feather-light so that it was clear there was no pressure on Steve to stay. The dress felt soft and floaty and light under his fingertips, and Bucky found himself liking the way the body underneath was firm and rigid, so unlike the soft curves with which he was familiar.

Bucky swayed gently from side to side. The song on the wireless was nothing special, but he wasn’t even listening, too caught up in the light blue of the other boy’s eyes. Then, so slowly one almost not notice it at all, Steve raised his hands to place them on Bucky shoulders and began to sway with him.

“Does it feel like you’re dancing with a real dame?”

“It feels like I’m dancing with my best guy,” Bucky replied, gently tugging Steve a little closer. “And if I ain’t the luckiest fella in the whole world for it.”

“So you ain’t bothered that we’re both guys?”

“I’m only bothered that this is a crummy song, sugar.” Bucky didn’t actually hate the song, but he loved the way that Steve blushed a little.

Bucky lifted Steve’s hand and signalled for him to do a spin, marvelling at the way the blue skirt floated around his fair legs. Then, just as he was coming back in, Bucky went in for the kiss. It had felt too rushed when Steve had clearly wanted to kiss him earlier, but this moment seemed perfect. He leaned in with confidence, but slow enough that Steve could back away if he wanted.

But Steve did not back away, and their kiss was soft and slow and sweet. Bucky could only convince himself to pull away for knowing that it’d be embarrassing to be gasping for breath afterwards. It took a moment after he opened his eyes for Steve’s to flutter open, and he took the opportunity to take a mental photo of the light flush of the smaller boy’s cheeks. 

“You jerk,” Steve said, soft enough to be nearly inaudible over the music. Bucky liked the way that the other boy sounded just a little bit breathless. “You’ve gotten my lipstick all over your own lips.”

“Well,” Bucky replied, “I guess you’re just gonna have to get over here and take it back.”

**Author's Note:**

> I haven’t written fanfic in forever and never for this fandom, so writing this was quite the journey lmao
> 
> If you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it in the comments!


End file.
